Drowning
by writhen heart
Summary: "Remus wants to kill him. Kill Dumbledore, for making him see that face again. Harry, for making him drag out this miserable existence. Sirius. Definitely Sirius. For everything. It's all his fault. Remus hopes he does come after Harry, because he'll be waiting." Wolfstar, Snupin, for ECT.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter.

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Depression, suicidal thoughts, violence, dub-con, non-detailed sex scene, language, dark themes

**Dedication:** Written for Evil Cosmic Triplet as part of the _2014 Gift Giving Extravanganza. _I really hope you like this, lovely :)

**Also:** Entered in Scavenger Hunt Comp for 34.

**A/N: **Dark themes, please proceed with caution. I was quite hesitant about trying Severus/Remus, as it clashes with my Sirius/Remus OTP. But they are in this too, and I actually really liked exploring the possibility. This is pretty much canon compliant in that it could be seen as 'missing moments'. And this is officially the longest piece I've ever written!

* * *

**i.**

* * *

He is drowning. It's storming violently, the sky black and thunderous, the wind shrieking, as if heaven itself wants to explode. He looks at the rain and hail crashing against the glass without seeing it. There is no floor beneath him, nor walls around him. He's been ripped inside out. Parts of him so deep that he thought they could never be touched were torn and shredded until there was nothing left but his pathetic body. His disillusioned mind. His traitorous, naïve, _revolting_ heart. And he swears it is bleeding out. He is drowning.

* * *

He has to stay away from Harry, apparently for his safety. But Harry is alive and well and so he must stay alive too. He won't leave him now, not when everyone else has.

* * *

The relentless pain hollows into an ache that drags on every pore. He can't eat, can't sleep, can't think, but it keeps him pinned down with a vice-like grip. There's a winter inside that won't go away, and an endless chant of 'make it stop', that washes over him in dull desperation with every breath.

But deep down, he thinks that he deserves this. Surely this is hell, and he deserves to be punished. It doesn't stop him searching for release though, because he's a coward and he can't take it.

He shelter hops for a couple of years. They offer food, sometimes a bed for the night. He goes to abandoned train tunnels during his transformations.

Muggles use many things to stop the pain. With what dwindling money he has, he tries. The liquor is numbing, but when it wears off, it hits him again in full force, and he doesn't have the means to drink constantly. The drugs work with varying degrees of effectiveness, but the way they call to him and claw at him and refuse to let him go feels too much like the addiction he's already fighting. And sometimes, they make him see things, people, that he never wants to see again, hear voices he never wants to hear again. And they are expensive.

When the money is all gone, he joins a pack. There are about a dozen in the group, and he recognises many faces. They've calmed down since the Dark Lord's demise. Remus isn't a liability anymore, so they let him stay. They squat in squalors, moving often to avoid the police. They go to warehouses which they ward over the full moon, luring in as many Muggle homeless as they can convince to have fun with. They know Remus has changed, that he is broken. They can smell it.

Maybe that's why Aaron decides to get him alone. Remus stays back at their draughty shack one night before the full moon whilst the pack scouts for prey. Aaron stays too. With deliberate steps, he comes into the room where they all sleep. Remus sees the hunger in his stare and stands, but Aaron blocks the splintering doorway. He reeks like a mess of bodily fluids that don't bear thinking about, and his skin flakes like the paint on the walls. His teeth are yellow, and his eyes are narrowed and dark. His lip curls as Remus tries to push past.

"What's the matter? Saving yourself?" Aaron jeers.

Remus stops and stares at the grotesque man.

"No."

The disgust is so strong that it can distract him for a while. Aaron gets him alone on many nights, and Remus lets him do whatever he wants. Sometimes, Aaron even brings along a couple of the others who like the same thing. Remus lets them all screw him. He thinks he may have found the perfect cure.

* * *

Of course, it doesn't last. Nothing lasts forever. There is too much in-fighting in the pack as they each vie for leadership, cracking under the pressure of hiding their tracks from progressively more suspicious Muggle authorities. Remus' refusal to join them in their 'hunting' games over the full moon grates on them all, and when they split for good, they leave without a word.

It's been eight years since _that_ night and there is still nothing inside. He has lost hope that there ever will be. He goes back to sleeping at bus stops and dropping by shelters.

He stops looking for a 'cure', but he doesn't resist if he runs into someone who wants to use him. It's funny, how they try to convince him it'll be good. Some of them even let him know that they're not looking for a relationship, as if they're concerned that he'll get hurt. _As if_. As if they could make him feel anything, let alone _hurt_. But he plays along, letting himself get fucked to oblivion against graffiti covered concrete, and gets a sick satisfaction out of knowing that however deep they go, they can't touch him, and never will.

* * *

It's Dumbledore himself that finds him at a shelter one evening, to invite him to teach. He's wearing Muggle clothes and everything, and for a moment, Remus thinks he's just another drug induced apparition. But he hasn't been able to afford that stuff for a long time, so the old man must be real. Or else Remus has finally lost his mind.

They sit opposite each other, bowls of soup in front of them, in the crowded dining hall. Dumbledore says he's been looking for him for a long time. _Yeah, right_. The way he acts as if he actually cares turns Remus' stomach. He's not stupid enough to think that he was anything more than a pawn who'd outlived his utility. But now he has use again, apparently. _How wonderful_. He is to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dumbledore must be really desperate to be hiring an emaciated, homeless werewolf.

Dumbledore explains that term starts next week, and runs through a list of things that Remus should bring, and what he should expect. Remus honestly can't believe it. He lets the thought of returning to Hogwarts tick over in his mind. _Harry_. He'll be in third year. Remus will be teaching him. Harry has been the only thing keeping him tethered to this existence these past twelve years and yet… he dreads meeting him. Seeing him will be sure to trigger the memories he's worked so hard to suppress, and Remus doubts that even a steady supply of Firewhiskey will be strong enough to keep them at bay.

Dumbledore is still talking, and Remus tunes in once more. Severus, the Potions master, will brew him Wolfsbane. Remus isn't sure which part of that statement is more shocking. Severus is working at Hogwarts? A former Death Eater? And he'll finally be able to try this supposedly miraculous potion that can keep him in his right mind during transformations? Although he knows that's safest for everyone, he's also slightly irritated that he'll be denied the one night he has each month to disappear from himself.

Then Dumbledore sobers considerably and asks Remus if he's been keeping up with wizarding news. As though he still has a freaking owl to deliver the Daily Prophet, or contacts to talk to. Dumbledore sees his blank expression and sighs. He opens his jacket and pulls out a newspaper, which he places between them slowly.

_Sirius_.

The mutely screaming face has him frozen in place.

"He's escaped. We fear that Harry might be in danger."

Escaped. From Azkaban.

Remus wants to kill him. Kill Dumbledore, for making him see that face again. Harry, for making him drag out this miserable existence. Sirius. Definitely Sirius. For everything. It's all his fault. Remus hopes he does come after Harry, because he'll be waiting.

* * *

**ii.**

* * *

He's barely slept in the week since Dumbledore recruited him and despite the nausea he feels sloshing in his stomach from being back on the Hogwarts Express, he gives in to his exhaustion and sleeps. Sleeps as the carriage rocks him like a baby, the train whistling through the countryside, until it stops abruptly. Through the fabric of the cloak thrown over his face, he hears children's voices. They're not at Hogwarts yet.

A chill creeps up his legs, biting to the bone, and he knows what this is. He doesn't care for his own sake, but he supposes that as a teacher, he really should do something. He skims for a happy memory, but doesn't know where to look. What memory isn't now tainted? Suddenly, the compartment door slides open. He rips back the cloak and holds up his wand on instinct. He grabs the first thought that comes to mind, before it dredges up the pain.

"_Expecto Patronum_!"

The Dementor is blasted away with blinding light. Remus collapses back into his seat. He can't believe he thought of _him_, even now. It takes a few minutes for Remus to surface, pulled from his trance by the pleas of a girl with wild brown hair.

"Please, can you see if he's alright?"

Remus looks past her and the freckly red-head beside her. There is another boy, passed out on the seat… Remus outstretches a trembling hand and pushes jet black hair off the boy's face. There's a lightening shaped scar etched in his forehead. Remus feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Harry. Harry is still breathing, which is more than Remus can say for himself, but he casts some silent diagnostic charms over him regardless. He is okay. Remus can breathe again.

* * *

It's surreal, sitting in the Great Hall now, seeing it from the staff table's perspective. He's relieved that at least he'll have his own office and quarters, and won't have to go to the Gryffindor tower. Despite his calm exterior, he has no doubt that being in that common room again would prompt a panic attack.

Somehow, Remus was able to talk to Harry back on the train. When the boy regained consciousness, his eyes blinked open, and Remus could barely look. But they talked, and he was everything Remus had thought he'd be. The perfect mixture of his parents; brave, and humble and kind.

After the feast, he's shown his quarters. They're much more decent than anything he's encountered lately, and he begins unpacking. His personal possessions take all of five minutes to organise, just some clothes, and his wand and papers. The school supplies, which Dumbledore had given him money to buy, take longer. He sets out his classroom carefully, running over the sketchy lesson plans he brainstormed over the week. There's a knock at the door.

"Come in."

It's Severus. His arms are crossed, the folds of his black cloak hanging off him like silk, and his disdainful gaze sweeps over the room, before resting on Remus.

"The headmaster asked me to inform you that I will be brewing Wolfsbane Potion for you each month. I'll bring it to you each evening of the week proceeding your… transformation," Severus says contemptuously.

Remus nods. "Yes, thank you."

Severus hovers for a moment, before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room, cape billowing. Remus' mouth twitches. He absently wonders how awful Severus' classes must be. Thinking of classes, Remus sighs and returns to his bed chamber. He brushes his teeth and splashes water over his face. His reflection looks harrowed, pale, aged; in short, utterly hideous. _Good_. He drags himself to bed and falls into it, aching all over, hoping sleep will consume him soon.

* * *

Sirius. He hangs over Remus like a storm cloud threatening to burst. Every news report, every snippet of information, every whisper of his advancement, sends shivers of horror down through Remus' bones. What would twelve years of Azkaban have done to ferment his madness, fuel his blood-lust? And Remus is angry, oh so angry. How dare he do this to Harry, do this to him?

Yet through it all, all the fear and the hurt and the fury, he still wants him. It's not in his power to rewrite his DNA, to exorcise the need for Sirius from his every cell, no matter how cancerous that need may be.

* * *

Severus is inconceivably reclusive. Remus remembers well from their days at school that he was guarded, but never this solitary. He keeps to his quarters outside of classes and meal times. He only speaks to other professors when spoken to, and his tone is coldly formal, even then. His body language is insistently withdrawn and his gaze is hard. Remus is unfathomably intrigued.

He visits the Potions room in the dungeons one night, before Severus can bring the Wolfsbane to his quarters. The man is stirring a cauldron carefully, a ladle and cup sitting close by at the ready. Remus knocks and Severus' gaze snaps up.

"Lupin," he drawls. "Impatient, are we?"

"Not at all," Remus says, entering. "I just thought it must be rather tiresome for you to have to come to me every time, and thought I'd save you the walk."

Severus continues stirring the bubbling mixture, seeming to have lost interest in Remus' presence already. "It won't be ready for another fifteen minutes at least," he says after a few moments of humming silence.

Remus shrugs and sits atop one of the desks. "That's no problem, I can wait."

He watches Severus work, hands efficient, shoulders hunched, gaze focussed. Time passes quickly that way and before long, Remus takes the brimming cup with a quiet thanks. He knows it will be revolting, so he resolves to skol it. He keeps his eyes fixed on Severus as he raises the cup to his lips and tips it down his throat, Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Severus is already putting the potions equipment away, but Remus can see the man watching him out of the corners of his eyes.

* * *

The transformations themselves are strange. Remus just lies on the hard floor of his office all night, feeling out of place in the wolf's aching body. He wonders if the wolf wants to get out. Does it miss its night of freedom? Does it feel trapped in there? In a strange way, he pities it.

* * *

Remus tears down the moving stairs cases, fists tight, jaw clenched. The other teachers are scared to search outside. They stay in pairs, scouring the common rooms and passage ways and classrooms. Not Remus. He stomps out from the Entrance Hall and down the stairs. The air has an icy bite, but he doesn't feel it. His blood pumps hot with fury as he stalks the boundaries of the castle. He casts all manner of detection charms and keeps his eyes peeled, even sucking in great breathes through his nose to try and _smell_ him. The grounds are dead quiet and shadowy and there's no trace.

He approaches the eerie Forbidden Forest. He _must_ be in there. Remus stands on the edge of the tree line, gripping the rough bark of a tree truck. He has an overwhelming urge to set the whole thing ablaze, watch it burn in a devastating Fiendfyre apocalypse.

"Tonight?" he screams into the darkness. "The day they died?"

There is no answer and Remus punches the tree.

"Come out and face me, you stupid fuck! How dare you?! _How dare you_?!"

He's shaking and he can barely see straight for the pounding in his head.

"Come on!"

He doesn't know how long he stays there, staring into the pitch black, the adrenaline pulsing through his limbs, the night swirling in his eyes. But the forest is still, unnaturally so, and there's nothing more to be done, so he returns to the castle.

* * *

Severus comes to his chambers the following evening. He looks…angry. _Interesting_.

"Can I help you, Severus?" Remus asks politely.

Severus shoves his way into the room and slams the door behind him. "Did you let Black into the castle?"

Remus grits his teeth. "No."

"Have you helped him in any way with his escape?"

"No."

Severus glares at him, obviously unconvinced. "I suppose you wouldn't mind making the same statement under the influence of Veritaserum?"

Remus raises his eyebrows. "Isn't that a restricted substance?"

"What's the matter?" Severus sneers. "Got something to hide?"

"I think you should leave."

Severus folds his arms. "Someone must be helping him."

"Well, it's not me."

Suddenly, Severus is up in his face. "Then who?" he hisses.

Remus shoves him back. "I don't know. Trust me, I hate him more than anyone. And if I do find him, he'll wish the Dementors had got to him first."

Severus looks suspicious. "Hate him? Really?"

"Yes."

"I see. So the fact that you were fucking for several years –"

Remus slams him up against the wall. "Shut the fuck up."

Severus smiles viciously. "Touched a nerve?"

"I lost everything because of him. I hate him."

Severus' eyes flash. "You don't have monopoly over wanting revenge on Black, Lupin. If you're helping him-"

"Who the hell are you to talk? You hadn't had anything to do with Lily since fifth year."

Severus pushes Remus off him and goes to the door, but Remus locks it with a flick of his wand.

"No, you brought it up. I want to know."

Snape turns slowly, eyes fiery, hands clenched. "Don't _test_ me, Lupin."

Remus feels something ugly awaken inside him. Something vindictive and hungry and _black_.

"So you had a thing for her? So what?" he demands. "You were too much of an arsehole to apologise."

"Don't."

"What are going to do?" Remus whispers. "Use your Death Eater dark arts on me?"

He's smashed into the floor before he can even get the last words out. A strangled laugh escapes his lips, sounding unhinged even to his own ears.

"I can see why you liked Black," Snape grinds out, knees digging into Remus' chest. "You're just the same. Both fucked up."

Remus tries in vain to push him off, sure an egg must be forming on the back of his head. Despite the fact that Severus looks like he's about to bash his face in, he feels himself unable to stop. It's like he's triggered an avalanche, and he's hurtling towards the cliff edge. He wants to accelerate the ride, launch into the freefall.

"What would you know?" Remus chokes out. "I bet you've never been fucked in your life."

Severus growls and digs his finger nails deeper into Remus' shoulders.

"Unless one of your Death Eater buddies took pity on you." Remus croaks. "Or did you actually hold out, thinking that you still had a chance with Lily? She was married, with a son, for Merlin's sake. Pathetic."

Severus does hit him now. He punches him in the face, cracking his nose, and splitting his lip. Blood streams like a gushing tap, and Remus is ridiculously satisfied. Severus climbs up, breathing heavily.

"So that's it, then," Remus muses calmly, seemingly unconcerned by the red rivets trailing over his face and soaking his collar. "No wonder you're so broody. It's pent up sexual frustration."

Severus ignores him, straightening and _scourgify_ charming the blood off his robes.

Remus sits up, wrapping his arms around his legs. Severus' last words reverberate in his ears. It hits him like a train. He _is_ like Sirius. He _sounds_ like Sirius. Pushing Severus, crossing the line, doing anything to get a reaction. He really is fucked up.

_Maybe, _a traitorous voice taunts, _you _**want**_ to be like him. Because you _**miss**_ him_.

"No," Remus whispers.

He'll show Sirius.

He stands. "I wonder what Dumbledore would say about all this," he says.

Severus purses his lips.

"I'd probably get reprimanded," Remus continues nonchalantly. "I wasn't the one who threw a punch. I'm not so sure about you, though."

"Don't worry about me," Severus sneers.

"Oh, but I _do _worry, Severus," Remus murmurs, stepping closer. "Even if I do get fired, I'm used to living on the outside. But you – ah!" he shakes his head. "You're too _delicate_ for that."

Severus scoffs and turns, but Remus grips his arm. "I won't tell."

Severus regards him icily over his shoulder. "I don't care _what_ you do."

"On one condition," Remus continues, as if he hasn't spoken. "I can't have you taking out your frustration on me or your students anymore. I can help you with that. Everyone wins."

Severus elbows him away, disgusted.

Remus lunges forward and twists Severus around to face him. He swears the wolf is lingering close to the surface, supplying its strength. Remus squeezes his arms so hard that Severus drops his wand. He stiffens, looking _scared_. Remus feels a thrill rush through him, and he leans in.

"Don't worry," he purrs, "I'm not going to force you. But don't you _want_ to? I won't hassle you about this incident again. Won't tell anyone. And you can prove that you're not a miserable little _virgin_."

Severus squirms. "I hate you!" he spits.

_And Sirius hates _you.

"The feeling's mutual," Remus says wryly. "I promise I'll make it good. You can even top, if you want."

Severus looks at him for a long minute. Remus holds his breath, but doesn't loosen his grip. He's probably forming bruises.

"I… don't hate you," Severus says quietly.

Remus waits.

"But I don't want to sleep with you."

Remus rolls his eyes. "It's just sex. You don't have to like someone to have sex with them."

"Romantic, aren't you?"

"That's got nothing to do with it either."

Severus takes a cautious, deep breath, as if to avoid making any sudden movements. "Would you… take Veritaserum?"

Remus exhales with an irritated hiss. "You _still_ think I'm helping him? Fine. Yes."

"It's in my pocket."

Remus releases him. Severus rubs his arms, pulls out the vial and holds it out.

Remus uncorks it, takes a swig and shoves it back. "Go on."

Severus pockets the vial, regarding him wearily. "Did you, in any way, help Black escape or get into the castle?"

"No."

"Do you know of anyone who has?"

"No."

"Do you want to help him?"

"No."

Severus looks taken aback. "Do you hate him?"

"Yes. Cut it out now, you've had your fun."

"Do you still love him?"

Remus won't. He grabs Severus face and wrenches him into a brutal kiss. He can taste his own blood. Severus struggles, but Remus drags him back, and they fall back onto the bed. He rolls Severus underneath him and stares coldly into his black eyes.

"What do you want to do?"

Severus turns his face away, grimacing. "Right now?"

"Right now."

"Fuck you."

"Good."

Remus hauls them both further up the bed. Severus is evidently repulsed by him, but Remus hopes his persistence can make up for it.

He does it just like he did with him. He tastes his salty neck with sharp nips, and licks and bites at his bitter coffee tasting mouth, and pulls his hair. He palms him through his fabric layers, and hearing groans, rips the robes off. He runs his hands down Severus' ribs and his tongue down Severus' chest, panting hot over his skin. He sucks, drawing gasps. And finally, Severus is hard enough to fuck him from underneath. Remus dedicates the performance to Sirius. Each thrust is a glorious _take that_.

* * *

If Severus didn't hate him before, he certainly does now. Remus doesn't care. All his little passive aggressive attempts to piss him off (Giving a lesson on Werewolves to his third year class? Classic.) don't change the fact that _he_ has visited Remus three times since the first time. Remus is surprised, but doesn't complain. It's much the same story. Severus tops from the bottom, gets his breath back, cleans himself up and leaves.

Remus is almost certain he took the man's virginity, and that's probably his only regret about the situation.

* * *

The Prophet says Sirius will get the Dementors' kiss. Remus tries to work out what he feels about this, but draws a blank.

Harry asks for lessons on warding off Dementors. Remus is glad to help him in some small way. He even talks to him a little about his parents, despite the inevitable sting.

It feels like the relative calm before the storm. Sirius must still be lurking around here somewhere. He hopes he's been watching him and Severus.

* * *

It happens again, but this time, Sirius actually gets into the third year Gryffindor boys' dorm. Why did he just slash the curtains of Ron's bed? Why didn't he just kill Harry when he got the chance? It makes no sense.

Questions swirl like spinning wind chimes, not yet frantic, but teetering on the brink. Remus locks his bedroom door and doesn't answer at the knock.

* * *

Remus clutches the Map in the privacy of his office. He ignores the pangs of painful nostalgia it induces and reveals the inky drawing with a tap of his wand and those fateful words: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

He scans the hundreds of dots anxiously, but doesn't see Sirius.

He figures that he's probably in the forest or Hogsmeade by now, but he takes another look just in case. Nothing, nothing, noth-

_No. _

It's impossible.

But the dot is still there, the name hovering in bold on the border, no matter how many times he tries to blink it away. _**Peter Pettigrew**_.

* * *

**iii.**

* * *

He was drowning. It was sprinkling outside, the summer sun shining through the clouds, the rain making the grass in the fields glitter. Sirius lay beside him, glowing, illuminated by the light streaming in from the window, or maybe, from the starlight inside of him. Remus was entranced, caught like a fly in honey, unable to look away, even if had wanted to. Deep inside, something had changed. Like the missing puzzle piece had slid into place. And like the tide rolling in, it washed over him. He was in love. The realisation might have scared him, if not for the love he saw reflected back in Sirius' eyes. His beautiful, silver eyes, as deep as the ocean. He was drowning.

* * *

Sirius had him on a string. When Sirius was up, Remus was a kite soaring atop of a mountain. When Sirius was down, he was an anchor sunken in the Pacific Ocean. And it was always one or the other. Up or down. Black or white. Unless Sirius was angry. Then it was just red; hot, searing red.

Sirius was never angry with him, though, oh no, but that didn't stop Remus boiling in the heat of the lava waves rolling off him. Sirius was angry at his parents, his brother, the rest of his family. Angry with Dumbledore and the Order and James. Angry at He Who Must Not be Named and the Death Eaters and the war. Angry at the whole world. Angry at himself. But not Remus. Never Remus. Until he was.

"Where have you been?"

"Mission."

"Solo mission?"

"Yeah."

"How convenient."

"What do you want me to do, Sirius?"

"What do you think?"

"I have to go to them. Dumbledore wants –"

"I don't give a shit what Dumbledore wants. What about what I want?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Sirius."

"Where have you actually been?"

"I told you."

"No you haven't."

"I'm not allowed to say."

"No secrets, remember?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"You don't trust me."

"Of course I trust you! That's not the point."

"What _is_ the point? That the Order's more important to you than me?"

"What the hell is your problem? I though this is what you _wanted_? To stop You Know Who?"

"Just stop skirting the subject! Where. Were. You?"

"None. Of your. Business."

"Do you know what I've heard? That you're running with the packs. _His werewolf_ packs."

"And where would you have heard that?"

"Are you?"

"Maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?"

"How did you get in?"

"They could sense I was one of them."

"That's not what I meant. What did you have to do for initiation?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, Remus."

"Drop it, Sirius."

"Did you have to hunt with them? Where were you last full moon?"

"Fuck off."

"Or did you have to sleep with the alpha to show your submission?"

"Get off me! If you don't trust me, I don't even know why I'm still here."

"I'll trust you if you tell me exactly what you've been doing."

"No. You should trust me regardless."

"Well, I don't."

"I can see that."

"Where are you going?"

"Werewolf orgy. Don't wait up."

"Don't be a dickhead."

"Good bye, Sirius."

* * *

He hated being away from him, but he was angry, and Sirius should have apologised by now and he hadn't. But it was bearable because he knew they'd make up eventually and it was just a matter of who would crumble first.

Remus kept busy with spying and when he took a break, he went back to their apartment. Sirius was staying with James and Lily. Lily was due soon and couldn't go on missions, which irked her to no end. Remus visited her a few times, when it was just her at home.

"Remus, it's good to see you!"

"You too, Lily," Remus said, stepping out of the fire place. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, oh yeah, I'm fine. It's just… Hormones. Darn baby messing up my emotions again."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm fine. Sit down, I'll get you a cuppa."

"I can get it."

"Don't be silly, I'm not an invalid."

"Thank you."

"So tell me, what have you been up to?"

"Just the usual. Lots of work."

"Dangerous?"

"A bit."

"Hmm. James nearly got his head blown off the other day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Don't like not being there with him. He's too confident for his own good. He's got Sirius, but you know how they are together. They need their sensible other halves to keep them in check."

"Mm."

"And Sirius has been… off, lately."

Remus sighs.

"You know he needs you?"

"Then he should apologise."

"I know. But it's war time, Remus. You can't let a silly argument get in the way of the important things."

"But –"

"No buts. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

"Are you two moving?"

"What? Oh. Yes, I've just been packing up all the baby's things. We're moving to… a bigger house. Better for a family, you know?"

"That's nice. Whereabouts?"

"It's kind of…"

"Classified?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Need to know basis, I understand."

"Thanks. We'll still visit you, as long as it's safe."

"I'd like that. So it's definitely a boy, then?"

"Yes."

"James still set on Elvendork?"

"Oh Merlin, don't even get me started."

"What do you want to call him?"

"I don't know, something normal, for goodness sake. Like Patrick, or Thomas or William. Peter likes Harry. I'll have to what to see what suits him, though."

"I like Harry."

"Me too. Now, if I can only convince James…"

* * *

It was while he was working that he heard it.

"Can't believe the Dark Lord's accepted him."

"He's friends with Mudbloods and blood traitors."

"But apparently he's got inside information that He needs."

"I wouldn't trust him. People like that don't change."

"But the Dark Lord can read minds. He'd know if he was lying."

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Nice of you to join us, Remus."

"Slept in, sorry."

"Right sleeping beauty, you are."

"So what were you saying?"

"Why do you care?"

"Just curious."

"The Dark Lord's got a new spy."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You probably know him. He was in Gryffindor, apparently."

"What's his name?"

"Can't tell you that, princess. Confidentiality agreement."

"But you don't like him?"

"Well, I wouldn't trust him."

* * *

The last time he saw him. A week before Halloween. He just Apparated into the middle of the apartment.

"Just assumed the wards would still let you in?" Remus asked, putting his book down on the coffee table.

"Yeah, well, I'm still paying the rent."

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong."

Remus stood up and slowly approached Sirius. He was leaning back against the wall, staring into space.

"Seriously?"

Sirius snorted. "Yeah. Don't make me pun."

"So what are you doing here?"

Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets. Remus noticed they were trembling. Sirius looked at the floorboards resolutely. "I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Remus, you wouldn't… you wouldn't ever…"

"I can't hear you."

"Bull, I know you can."

"Alright, I can. Get on with it."

"Would you ever… change sides?"

Remus stared uncomprehendingly. "What?"

Sirius lifted his head and Remus took a step back. He was crying. Sirius was crying.

"What's going on? What's wrong?"

Sirius gave a laugh and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "Don't worry about it. Just forget I said anything, okay?"

Remus closed the distance between them and wrapped Sirius in a tight embrace. It had been too long. Sirius relaxed and snaked his arms around Remus' waist. Remus closed his eyes, breathing him deeply, then froze.

"Sirius?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Where have you been?"

There was a long, heavy pause, as Sirius draw patterns with his nails over Remus' back.

"It doesn't matter."

"No secrets."

Sirius dropped his arms abruptly and side stepped out of Remus' arms.

"It's a bit late for that, don't you think?"

"Please, just tell me what's going on. You can tell me anything."

Sirius smiled and shook his head. "I can't though. I've got to go."

"Wait –"

But he was already gone.

* * *

**iv.**

* * *

The bathroom spins as Remus retches over the toilet bowl. He's shaking uncontrollably. His body has come to the conclusion before his mind can catch up. The sickness is too deep to purge, but that doesn't stop his body from trying.

* * *

Peter is alive. He's been alive the past twelve years. Which means Sirius didn't kill him. Where has he been? Who was he hiding him from, if not Sirius? Why is he here now?

Snatches of memory flicker. Peter setting off a Sneakoscope. His frequent visits to family members abroad. Wearing jumpers through summer.

And it is so simple.

* * *

When it finally sinks in a few nights later, Remus cries. It's _that_ night all over again.

In his distraught state, he forgets to lock the door. He hears it creak open in the dark. He's curled into his pillow, clutching it like a life buoy, as sobs tear through him. They follow a desultory, chromatic melody; a cluster of staccato gasps, a low octave wail, a slurred crescendo of whimpering. Messy and all consuming.

A shadow falls over him.

"Go away," he chokes.

The bed depresses. He feels a hand on his back. Shame constricts his throat further. Another victim of his selfishness.

"I'm sorry," he croaks without turning around. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Severus' low voice vibrates through his ribcage.

Remus shakes his head and squeezes the pillow tighter, as if he can block him out.

The mattress shifts again and he is gone. The door closes with a click.

* * *

He is a gruesome sight, but Remus can't look away. It's like his wildest dream and worst nightmare combined. Sirius. But not Sirius.

He can't even begin to process it, though, because he needs to know. Needs to hear it from Sirius himself. He asks where he is and Sirius points to Ron. He asks if they switched without telling and Sirius nods.

As though watching the scene on a screen, Remus sees himself haul Sirius up off the floor and into a desperate embrace. And it is wrong, all so wrong, because they don't fit right, and they shouldn't be in this ugly place, and Sirius hasn't said a word yet.

But reality pulls Remus back to earth when Hermione screams. He must be patient, because they have a job to do. He goes through the story painstakingly slowly because Harry deserves to know the truth, and Remus has been selfish for long enough. Sirius interjects impatiently, and all Remus can see in his hollowed eyes is neurotic, murderous intent, and all he can hear in his voice is bitterness and desperation. He would be scared by it if he didn't feel the same all-encompassing desire to tear Peter limb from limb. But this is not about them, and they can hold on a little longer.

* * *

Remus wakes in the early morning, sticks jabbing into his back, a tell-tale coppery scent hanging in the air. The events of the previous night crash over him.

He scrambles to his knees, doubling over as his weak, gashed limbs protest. Pebbles dig into his palms, his head pounds and he is desperately thirsty.

"If there's one thing I _despise_, Lupin, it's a liar."

Remus lifts his head, squinting in the light. Severus' shadowy figure looms tall a few meters back.

"Where's Peter?" Remus rasps. "And Sirius? Where's Sirius?"

"_You_, are a filthy liar."

"I never lied to you," Remus grunts. His doesn't have time for this. "Where's –"

Severus paces over, pulls Remus up by the arm and shoves him against a tree. "Your traitorous little _boyfriend_ has disappeared!" he snarls.

Remus sighs in relief. He's not been kissed by the Dementors then. He stares at Severus now. He can see his sable eyes shining with the same homicidal sentiment they showed last night, but there's something else there. Deeper down. _Hurt_.

"Severus," Remus says slowly. "About… what we did –"

Severus releases his grip and Remus has to hold on to a branch to stay on his feet.

"Don't think you did me a favour," Severus hisses. "I don't _owe_ you anything."

"Of course not," Remus mutters. "It's just, I'm sorry. I was… out of line."

His gaze is hard, but Remus can see the tremor of his hands, tucked into his folded arms. "_You_ asked for it. I did _you_ a favour."

Remus feels pricks of guilt all over. Suddenly, a blinding stab of pain shoots through his skull. He gasps and stumbles to his knees.

"And I was not a _virgin_, so you can get that thought of your head," Severus spits.

Remus clutches his head again, as this time, he is forced to watch a foreign memory, strangely lit and shaded, as if coloured with felt tip highlighters. Severus buried inside a flushed Narcissa Black. As quickly as it starts, it's over.

"I don't need your pity." Severus summons a robe, and tosses it beside Remus. He stalks away, and Remus stares at the swimming ground.

* * *

Sirius sits curled on the armchair opposite, small, and bony and twitchy.

"Do you want another blanket?" Remus asks, and Sirius shakes his head.

It's the second night that Sirius has been staying at the house after Remus sent him the address by owl, the house that Dumbledore organised for Remus. They still haven't properly spoken. Still haven't made eye-contact, in fact. They stare into the crackling fire, until Remus can't take it any longer.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too."

It's a start, but there's so much more Remus wants to say, _needs_ to say. The words that have scratched into his soul with angry, blotting script over the years are stuck in his throat.

"Why… why did you think it was me?" he manages finally.

Sirius rubs his eyes. "Why…" he chews on the inside of his mouth, still lost in the fire. "Why did I think it was you…? Maybe because I saw you with the other wolves."

"You… spied on me?"

"Yeah."

"You spied on me spying."

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" Sirius snaps, eyes flicking over to Remus. "Yeah, I saw you. And you were all very… touchy feeling. Pack instincts, maybe. But you wouldn't tell me anything about it, and it made me..."

"Paranoid."

"And Peter," Sirius ignores him, and growls the name. "Miserable, snivelling…"

"What about him?"

"He apparently overheard Death Eaters talking about you."

"Ah. Such compelling evidence."

Sirius grinds his teeth. "What about you? Why did you think it was me?"

"Are you kidding? You were living with James and Lily for a year, for fuck's sake! You were supposed to be their secret keeper. No one thought to tell me about the switch."

"Yeah, but –"

Remus stands up and paces the room, vexation swelling in his chest. "And the last time I saw you, Sirius, the last time, you asked me if I wanted to change sides. What was I supposed to think?"

"I thought –"

"I know _now_ what you thought. But that wasn't all. You smelt… you smelt like your cousins. Like you had just been with them. I knew the scent from school, and from the traces off the other wolves. And it was all over you."

Sirius gives a short, shallow laugh. "Well, it would have been, wouldn't it? I'd just come from one of their hideouts."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you just tell me that, instead of being all cryptic?"

"I don't know," Sirius bites, kicking off his blankets and jumping out of the chair. "Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?"

Remus sighs, looking up at the ceiling, and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "We were both morons, obviously."

Sirius walks out of the room, muttering under his breath.

"What was that?" Remus calls sharply. "You do know I have good hearing?"

"I'd forgotten," Sirius shouts as he retreats down the hallway.

Remus follows. "You said something about you getting…"

Sirius exhales exasperatedly and spins around. "I got the shit end of the stick, didn't I? We were both morons, but I was the one that got thrown in Azkaban for it!"

Remus gapes at him. "Yeah. Yeah, you got thrown in Azkaban. And I got thrown out on the streets."

"Oh boo-hoo for you," Sirius says sarcastically. "I'll bet it was a bloody picnic compared to what I went through."

"Is this a fucking competition to you?!"

"No. But if it was, we both know who'd win."

"What's wrong with you?"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "I'm a callous bastard, right? Twelve years of hanging out with Dementors does that to you. Not that you'd know anything about that. The never-ending soul sucking despair. Your biggest wish being that they'll give you a rope for Christmas so you can neck yourself."

Remus laughs and turns around. He returns to the lounge room and flings himself back into the couch. The shudders wrack through his whole body, and the empty sound bounces like ping pong balls off the four walls. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts and tears stream down his face. And when he can't make sound any more, he still shakes with the sensation.

Sirius is sitting back in the armchair again, arms wrapped around his knees. He watches with raised eyebrows. "Remus?" he whispers.

Remus wipes his eyes, finally getting his breathing under control. "_Yes_?"

"What _did_ you do all those years?"

Remus turns on his side and rests his head in his hand, propping it up with his elbow. "I don't think you want to know."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"Alright then. I got drunk and I got high. I joined a pack. And I fucked around. A lot."

"Sounds like the high life."

"Oh, _yes_, Sirius. It was just _brilliant_."

"And then you went to Hogwarts."

"That's right."

He wonders if he should tell him. He swore all these years that he wanted to hurt him. Hell, he did it for the express purpose of hurting him. But that was before he knew he was innocent.

Maybe he does it because he still harbours a lingering resentment that he left him. Maybe he does it because he doesn't want to lie by omission (_No secrets, remember?_). Or maybe he does it because Sirius is not Sirius, and he would do anything to get a reaction, just to tease out a fragment of the old Sirius.

"I fucked Snape."

Sirius stares at him. "What?"

"Well, he fucked me. Four times. I asked him to, the first time. The next three times were just a bonus."

The wood in the fireplace splinters. The silence stretches.

"Bullshit."

"I can show you, if you don't believe me."

There it is, a flicker behind his silver eyes, and Remus' breath catches.

"Why?" Sirius whispers.

"To stop thinking about you. To punish you."

Sirius swallows, biting on his bottom lip. "And did it work?"

"You tell me."

It works. Sirius is Sirius, just for a moment. His face is raw, his mouth twisted, his eyes wide and alive with palpable pain.

"Sirius?" Remus breathes.

"I'm sorry, Moony," Sirius mutters, and Remus' heart lifts to hear that name. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. But mostly…" Sirius lays his head on his knees and turns back towards the fire, "mostly for the fact that I can't be who you want me to be."

Remus feels a cold hand slide around his neck, and he shakes his head. "Don't say that. Not when I've waited so long –"

"I can't lie to you, Remus. I'm not the same as I was, and I never will be, alright?"

Remus feels his mouth go dry. "But… I've changed too."

With effort, Sirius faces him again. "Do you really want this? Do you really think we can be happy together now?"

Remus doesn't know what to say.

"Because I don't," Sirius continues. "I think we'd feed off each other's misery. And I don't want that for you, Remus. It sucks and I wish it was different, but that's the truth."

Remus should feel upset, but he doesn't. He feels numb. But maybe also… relieved. At least now he can remember how they were.

"Sirius?" he asks quietly. "Can we still be friends?"

Sirius smiles a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. You're my best friend."

"Only friend, really."

Sirius grimaces, but gives a light chuckle. "True."

* * *

Severus doesn't _need_ to see him, doesn't even _want_ to see him, really. But they both work for the Order now, and he sees him quite a lot, whether he wants to or not. He and Black aren't together. There's nothing stopping them, but their disconnectedness hangs in the air, and he can tell. They aren't together. He wonders whether they ever got back together at all after Black returned. Not that he cares. It's just… _interesting_. He wonders if Remus ever told Black what they did. His utter loathing for Black is certainly reciprocated, but it's always been that way, and he can't tell without Occlumency. He wonders if he wants Remus to have told. How would he feel if he had? How would he feel if he hadn't?

Remus avoids eye contact with him. They talk about Order business with the group and never linger after meetings. It makes him think that Remus must still think of him, at least a little bit, because he would act more comfortably around him if he didn't. Whether he thinks about him with longing or disgust doesn't really matter. He just doesn't want to be blanked out.

That would be unfair. And although life is unfair, and that fact has taunted him and proved itself mercilessly time and time again, Severus can't help but hope that this is the exception. That Remus does remember, and does think about him, just a little. Because he does. He knows he doesn't love Remus, not at all. He hasn't given away what has always been, and what _always_ will be, Lily's. But Remus was his first in the way he suspected, and probably his last. The fact that Remus _knew_ was utterly humiliating. The fact that he _pitied_ him was simply intolerable. So Severus showed him a glimpse of a dream and it was enough to fool him.

Fucking Remus. It's another reason to hate himself, another drop in his acidic internal ocean. But even worse than that, is the way he remembers how it felt to be touched, how it felt to be with someone like that, even though it was rough and painful and meaningless, and how he misses it. It's another reason that he must remind himself to never, ever get close to anyone. The confirmation is unsurprising, perhaps even expected. He lets himself sink into the corrosive waters. He is drowning from the inside out. And there is no one to pull him free.

* * *

**A/N:** Phew. What did you think? Leave a review and let me know :)


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